his court in the month of May, and meeting two pilgrims of great age,
alighted from his car and kissed their hands and feet, giving them alms
also. The lords of the land were displeased that the king should thus
abase his royalty, and among them chiefly the king’s brother, who said
that he would rebuke the king for his deed. When they were returned,
the brother spoke to the king, and said he must excuse himself to his
lords. He answered courteously and they went to supper.
Now there was ordained by the law a certain trumpet of brass, which
was called the Trump of Death: and when any lord should be put to
death, this was sounded before his gate. The king then on that night
sent the man who had this office, to blow the trumpet at his brother’s
gate. Hearing the sound he knew that he must die, and called his
friends together, who advised that he with his wife and his five
children should go in all humility to entreat the king’s pardon. So
they went lamenting through the city and came to the court. Men told
the king how it was, and he coming forth blamed his brother because he
had been so moved by a mere human sentence of death, which might be
revoked. ‘Thou canst not now marvel,’ he said, ‘at that which I did:
for I saw in the pilgrims the image of my own death, as appointed by
God’s ordinance, and to this law I did obeisance; for compared to this
all other laws are as nothing. Therefore, my brother, fear God with all
thine heart; for all shall die and be equal in his sight.’ Thus the
king admonished his brother and forgave him. (2010-2253.)
I beseech you, father, to tell me some example of this in the cause of
love.
My son, in love as well as in other things this vice should be
eschewed, as a tale shows which Ovid told.
There was one _Narcissus_, who had such pride that he thought no woman
worthy of him. On a day he went to hunt in the forest, and being hot
and thirsty lay down to drink from a spring. There he saw the image of
his face in the water and thought it was a nymph. Love for her came
upon him and he in vain entreated her to come out to him: at length in
despair he smote himself against a rock till he was dead. The nymphs of
the springs and of the woods in pity buried his body, and from it there
sprang flowers which bloom in the winter, against the course of nature,
as his folly was. (2254-2366.)
My father, I shall ever avoid this vice. I would my lady were as humble
towards me as I am towards her. Ask me therefore further, if there be
ought else.
God forgive thee, my son, if thou have sinned in this: but there is
moreover another vice of Pride which cannot rule his tongue, and this
also is an evil. (2367-2398.)
2399-2680. AVANTANCE. This vice turns praise into blame by loud
proclaiming of his own merit; and so some lovers do. Tell me then if
thou hast ever received a favour in love and boasted of it afterwards.
Nay, father, for I never received any favour of which I could boast.
Ask further then, for here I am not guilty.
That is well, my son, but know that love hates this vice above all
others, as thou mayest learn by an example. (2399-2458.)
_Alboin and Rosemund._ Albinus was king of the Lombards, and he in war
with the Geptes killed their king Gurmond in battle, and made a cup
of his skull. Also he took Gurmond’s daughter Rosemund as his wife.
When the wars were over, he made a great feast, that his queen might
make acquaintance with the lords of his kingdom; and at the banquet
his pride arose, and he sent for this cup, which was richly set in
gold and gems, and bade his wife drink of it, saying, ‘Drink with thy
father.’ She, not knowing what cup it was, took it and drank; and then
the king told how he had won it by his victory, and had won also his
wife’s love, who had thus drunk of the skull. She said nothing, but
thought of the unkindness of her lord in thus boasting, as he sat by
her side, that he had killed her father and made a cup of his skull.
Then after the feast she planned vengeance with Glodeside her maid.
A knight named Helmege, the king’s butler, loved Glodeside. To him
the queen gave herself in place of her maid, and then making herself
known, she compelled him to help her. They slew Albinus, but were
themselves compelled to flee, taking refuge with the Duke of Ravenna,
who afterwards caused them to be put to death by poison. (2459-2646.)
It is good therefore that a man hide his own praise, both in other
things and also in love, or else he may fail of his purpose.
2681-3066. VAIN GLORY thinks of this world only and delights in new
things. He will change his guise like a chameleon. He will make carols,
balades, roundels and virelays, and if he gets any advantage in love,
he rejoices over it so that he forgets all thought of death. Tell me if
thou hast done so.
My father, I may not wholly excuse myself, in that I have been for love
the better arrayed, and have attempted rondels, balades, virelays and
carols for her whom I love, and sung them moreover, and made myself
merry in chamber and in hall. But I fared none the better: my glory was
in vain. She would not hear my songs, and my fine array brought me no
reason to be glad. And yet I have had gladness at times in hearing how
men praised her, and also when I have tidings that she is well. Tell me
if I am to blame for this.
I acquit thee, my son, and on this matter I think to tell a tale how
God does vengeance on this vice. Listen now to a tale that is true,
though it be not of love. (2681-2784.)
There was a king of whom I spoke before, _Nabugodonosor_ by name. None
was so mighty in his days, and in his Pride he ruled the earth as a
god. This king in his sleep saw a tree which overshadowed the whole
earth, and all birds and beasts had lodging in it or fed beneath it.
Then he heard a voice bidding to hew down the tree and destroy it; but
the root (it said) should remain, and bear no man’s heart, but feed on
grass like an ox, till the water of the heaven should have washed him
seven times and he should be made humble to the will of God. The King
could find none to interpret this dream, and sent therefore for Daniel.
He said that the tree betokened the king, and that as the tree was
hewn down, so his kingdom should be overthrown, and he should pasture
like an ox and be rained upon and afflicted, until he acknowledged
the greatness of God. The punishment was ordained, he said, for his
vain glory, and if he would leave this and entreat for grace, he might
perchance escape the evil.
But Pride will not suffer humility to stand with him. Neither for his
dream nor yet for Daniel’s word did this king leave his vain glory, and
so that which had been foretold came upon him.
Then after seven years he remembered his former state and wept; and
though he might not find words, he prayed within his heart to God and
vowed to leave his vain glory, reaching up his feet towards the heaven,
kneeling and braying for mercy. Suddenly he was changed again into
a man and received his power as before, and the pride of vain glory
passed for ever from his heart. (2785-3042.)
Be not thou, my son, like a beast, but take humility in hand, for a
proud man cannot win love. I think now again to tell thee a tale which
may teach thee to follow Humility and eschew Pride.
3067-3425. HUMILITY. _The Three Questions._ There was once a young
and wise king, who delighted in propounding difficult questions, and
one knight of his court was so ready in answering them that the king
conceived jealousy and resolved to put him to confusion. He bade him
therefore answer these three questions on pain of death: (1) What is
it that has least need and yet men help it most? (2) What is worth
most and yet costs least? (3) What costs most and is worth least? The
knight went home to consider, but the more he beat his brains, the more
he was perplexed. He had two daughters, the younger fourteen years of
age, who, perceiving his grief, entreated him to tell her the cause.
At length he did so, and she asked to be allowed to answer for him
to the king. When the day came, they went together to the court, and
the knight left the answers to the maiden, at which all wondered. She
replied to the first question that it was the Earth, upon which men
laboured all the year round, and yet it had no need of help, being
itself the source of all life. As to the second, it was Humility,
through which God sent down his Son, and chose Mary above all others;
and yet this costs least to maintain, for it brings about no wars
among men. The third question, she said, referred to Pride, which cost
Lucifer and the rebel angels the loss of heaven, and Adam the loss of
paradise, and was the cause also of so many evils in the world.
The king was satisfied, and looking on the maiden he said, ‘I like
thine answer well, and thee also, and if thou wert of lineage equal to
these lords, I would take thee for my wife. Ask what thou wilt of me
and thou shalt have it.’ She asked an earldom for her father, and this
granted, she thanked the king upon her knees, and claimed fulfilment of
his former word. Whatever she may have been once, she was now an earl’s
daughter, and he had promised to take her as his wife. The king, moved
by love, gave his assent, and thus it was. This king ruled Spain in old
days and his name was Alphonse: the knight was called Don Petro, and
the daughter wise Peronelle. (3067-3402.)
Thus, my son, thou mayest know the evil of Pride, which fell from his
place in heaven and in paradise; but Humility is gentle and debonnaire.
Therefore leave Pride and take Humility.
My father, I will not forget: but now seek further of my shrift.
My son, I have spoken enough of Pride, and I think now to tell of
Envy, which is a hellish vice, in that it does evil without any cause.
(3403-3446.)
LIB. II.
1-220. SORROW FOR ANOTHER’S JOY. The next after Pride is ENVY, who
burns ever in his thought, if he sees another preferred to himself or
more worthy. Hast thou, my son, in love been sick of another man’s
welfare?
Yea, father, a thousand times, when I have seen another blithe of love.
I am then like Etna, which burns ever within, or like a ship driven
about by the winds and waves. But this is only as regards my lady, when
I see lovers approach her and whisper in her ear. Not that I mistrust
her wisdom, for none can keep her honour better; yet when I see her
make good cheer to any man, I am full of Envy to see him glad.
My son, the hound which cannot eat chaff, will yet drive away the oxen
who come to the barn; and so it is often with love. If a man is out of
grace himself, he desires that another should fail. (1-96.)
_Acis and Galatea._ Ovid tells a tale how Poliphemus loved Galathea,
and she, who loved another, rejected him. He waited then for a chance
to grieve her in her love, and he saw her one day in speech with young
Acis under a cliff by the sea. His heart was all afire with Envy, and
he fled away like an arrow from a bow, and ran roaring as a wild beast
round Etna. Then returning he pushed down a part of the cliff upon
Acis and slew him. She fled to the sea, where Neptune took her in his
charge, and the gods transformed Acis into a spring with fresh streams,
as he had been fresh in love, and were wroth with Polipheme for his
Envy. (97-200.)
Thus, my son, thou mayest understand that thou must let others be.
My father, the example is good, and I will work no evil in love for
Envy. (200-220.)
221-382. JOY FOR ANOTHER’S GRIEF. This vice rejoices when he sees
other men sad, and thinks that he rises by another’s fall, as in other
things, so also in love. Hast thou done so, my son?
Yes, father, I confess that when I see the lovers of my lady get a
fall, I rejoice at it; and the more they lose, the more I think that I
shall win: and if I am none the better for it, yet it is a pleasure to
me to see another suffer the same pains as I. Tell me if this be wrong.
This kind of Envy, my son, can never be right. It will sometimes be
willing to suffer loss, in order that another may also suffer, as a
tale will show. (221-290.)
_The Travellers and the Angel._ Jupiter sent down an angel to report
of the condition of mankind. He joined himself to two travellers, and
he found by their talk that one was covetous and the other envious. On
parting he told them that he came from God, and in return for their
kindness he would grant them a boon: one should choose a gift and the
other should have the double of what his fellow asked. The covetous
man desired the other to ask, and the other, unwilling that his fellow
should have more good than he, desired to be deprived of the sight of
one eye, in order that his fellow might lose both. This was done, and
the envious man rejoiced. (291-364.)
This is a thing contrary to nature, to seek one’s own harm in order to
grieve another.
My father, I never did so but in the way that I have said: tell me if
there be more.
383-1871. DETRACTION. There is one of the brood of Envy called
Detraction. He has Malebouche in his service, who cannot praise any
without finding fault. He is like the beetle which flies over the
fields, and cares nothing for the spring flowers, but makes his feast
of such filth as he may find. So this envious jangler makes no mention
of a man’s virtue, but if he find a fault he will proclaim it openly.
So also in Love’s court many envious tales are told. If thou hast made
such janglery, my son, shrive thee thereof. (383-454.)
Yes, father, but not openly. When I meet my dear lady and think of
those who come about her with false tales, all to deceive an innocent
(though she is wary enough and can well keep herself), my heart is
envious and I tell the worst I know against them; and so I would
against the truest and best of men, if he loved my lady; for I cannot
endure that any should win there but I. This I do only in my lady’s
ear, and above all I never tell any tale which touches her good name.
Tell me then what penance I shall endure for this, for I have told you
the whole truth.
My son, do so no more. Thy lady, as thou sayest, is wise and wary, and
there is no need to tell her these tales. Moreover she will like thee
the less for being envious, and often the evil which men plan towards
others falls on themselves. Listen to a tale on this matter. (454-586.)
_Tale of Constance._ The Roman Emperor Tiberius Constantinus had a
daughter Constance, beautiful, wise, and full of faith. She converted
to Christianity certain merchants of Barbary, who came to Rome to
sell their wares, and they, being questioned by the Soldan when they
returned, so reported of Constance that he resolved to ask for her in
marriage. He sent to Rome and agreed to be converted, and Constance
was sent with two cardinals and many other lords, to be his bride. But
the mother of the Soldan was moved by jealousy. She invited the whole
company to a feast, and there slew her own son and all who had had to
do with the marriage except Constance herself, whom she ordered to be
placed alone in a rudderless ship with victuals for five years, and so
to be committed to the winds and waves. (587-713.)
For three years she drifted under God’s guidance, and at last came
to land in Northumberland, near a castle on the bank of Humber, which
was kept by one Elda for the king of that land Allee, a Saxon and a
worthy knight. Elda found her in the ship and committed her to the
care of Hermyngheld his wife, who loved her and was converted by her.
Hermyngheld in the name of Christ restored sight to a blind man,
at which all wondered, and Elda was converted to the faith. On the
morrow he rode to the king, and thinking to please him, who was then
unwedded, told him of Constance. The king said he would come and see
her. Elda sent before him a knight whom he trusted, and this knight
had loved Constance, but she had rejected him, so that his love was
turned to hate. When he came to the castle he delivered the message,
and they prepared to receive the king; but in the night he cut the
throat of Hermyngheld and placed the bloody knife under the bed where
Constance lay. Elda came the same night and found his wife lying dead
and Constance sleeping by her. The false knight accused Constance and
discovered the knife where he had placed it. Elda was not convinced,
and the knight swore to her guilt upon a book. Suddenly the hand of
heaven smote him and his eyes fell out of his head, and a voice bade
him confess the truth, which he did, and thereupon died. (714-885.)
After this the king came, and desiring to wed Constance, agreed to
receive baptism. So a bishop came from Bangor in Wales and christened
him and many more, and married Constance to the king. She would not
tell who she was, but the king perceived that she was a noble creature.
God visited her and she was with child, but the king was compelled to
go out on a war, and left his wife with Elda and the bishop. A son was
born and baptized by the name of Moris, and letters were written to the
king, and the bearer of them, who had to pass by Knaresborough, stayed
there to tell the news to the king’s mother Domilde. She in the night
changed the letters for others, which said, as from the keepers of the
queen, that she had been delivered of a monster. The messenger carried
the letters to the king, who wrote back that they should keep his wife
carefully till he came again. On his return the messenger stayed again
at Knaresborough, and Domilde substituted a letter bidding them on
pain of death place Constance and her child in the same ship in which
she had come, and commit them to the sea. They grieved bitterly, but
obeyed. She prayed to heaven for help and devoted herself to the care
of the child (886-1083). After the end of that year the ship came to
land near a castle in Spain, where a heathen admiral was lord, who
had a steward named Theloüs, a false renegade. He came to see the
ship and found Constance, but he let none else see her; and at night
he returned, thinking to have her at his will. He swore to kill her
if she resisted him, and she bade him look out at the port to see if
any man was near: then on the prayer of Constance he was thrown out
of the ship and drowned. A wind arose which took her from the land,
and after three years she came to a place where a great navy lay. The
lord of these ships questioned her, but she told him little, giving
her name as Couste. He said that he came from taking vengeance on the
Saracens for their treachery, but could hear no news of Constance. He
was the Senator of Rome and was married to a niece of the Emperor named
Heleine. She came to Rome with her child and dwelt with his wife till
twelve years were gone, and none knew what she was, but all loved her
well. (1084-1225.)
In the meantime king Allee discovered the treachery and took vengeance
on his mother, who was burnt to death after confession of her guilt;
and all said that she had well deserved her punishment and lamented for
Constance. Having finished his wars, the king resolved to go to Rome
for absolution, and leaving Edwyn his heir to rule the land, he set
forth with Elda. Arcennus reported to his wife and to Couste the coming
of king Allee, and Couste swooned for joy. The king, after seeing the
Pope and relieving his conscience, made a feast, to which he invited
the Senator and others. Moris went also, and his mother bade him stand
at the feast in sight of the king. The king seeing him thought him
like his wife Constance, and loved him without knowing why. He asked
Arcennus if the child were his son, and from him he heard his story and
the name of his mother. The king smiled at the name ‘Couste,’ knowing
that it was Saxon for Constance, and was eager to ascertain the truth.
After the feast he besought the Senator to bring him home to see this
Couste, and never man was more joyful than he was when he saw his wife.
(1226-1445.)
The king remained at Rome for a time with Constance, but still she
did not tell him who she was. After a while she prayed him to make an
honourable feast before he left the city and to invite the Emperor,
who was at a place a few miles away from the city. Moris was sent
to beseech him to come and eat with them, which request he granted;
and at the time appointed they all went forth to meet the Emperor.
Constance, riding forward to welcome him, made herself known to him as
his daughter. His heart was overcome, as if he had seen the dead come
to life again, and all present shed tears. So a parliament was held and
Moris was named heir to the Emperor. King Allee and Constance returned
home to the great joy of their land; but soon after this the king died,
and Constance came again to Rome. After a short time the Emperor also
died in her arms, and she herself in the next year following. Moris was
crowned Emperor and known as ‘the most Christian.’ (1446-1598.)
Thus love at last prevailed and the false tongues were silenced. Beware
then thou of envious backbiting and lying, and if thou wouldest know
further what mischief is done by backbiting, hear now another tale.
(1599-1612.)
_Demetrius and Perseus._ Philip king of Macedoine had two sons,
Demetrius and Perseus. Demetrius the elder was the better knight, and
he was heir to the kingdom; but Perseus had envy of him and slandered
him to his father behind his back, saying that he had sold them to
the Romans. Demetrius was condemned on suborned evidence and by a
corrupt judge, and so put to death. Perseus then grew so proud that
he disdained his father and usurped his power, so that the father
perceived the wrong which had been done; but the other party was so
strong that he could not execute justice, and thus he died of grief.
Then Perseus took the government and made war on Rome, gathering a
great host. The Romans had a Consul named Paul Emilius, who took
this war in hand. His little daughter wept when she parted from him,
because her little dog named Perse was dead, and this seemed to him a
prognostic of success, for Perseus had spoken against his brother like
a dog barking behind a man’s back. Perseus rode with his host, not
foreseeing the mischief, and he lost a large part of his army by the
breaking of the ice of the Danube. Paulus attacked him and conquered
both him and his land, so that Perseus himself died like a dog in
prison, and his heir, who was exiled from his land, gained his bread by
working at a craft in Rome. (1613-1861.)
Lo, my son, what evil is done by the Envy which endeavours to hinder
another.
I will avoid it, my father; but say on, if there be more.
My son, there is a fourth, as deceptive as the guiles of a juggler, and
this is called False Semblant. (1862-1878.)
1879-2319. FALSE SEMBLANT. This is above all the spring from which
deceit flows. It seems fair weather on that flood; but it is not so
in truth. False Semblant is allied with Hypocrisy, and Envy steers
their boat. Therefore flee this vice and let thy semblant always be
true. When Envy desires to deceive, it is False Semblant who is his
messenger; and as the mirror shows what was never within it, so he
shows in his countenance that which is not in his heart. Dost thou
follow this vice, my son?
Nay, father, for ought I know; but question me, I pray you.
Tell me then, my son, if ever thou hast gained the confidence of any
man in order to tell out his secrets and hinder him in his love. Dost
thou practise such devices?
For the most part I say nay; but in some measure I confess I may be
reckoned with those that use false colours. I feign to my fellow at
times, until I know his counsels in love, and if they concern my lady,
I endeavour to overthrow them. If they have to do with others than she,
I break no covenant with him nor try to hinder him in his love; but
with regard to her my ears and my heart are open to hear all that any
man will say,--first that I may excuse her if they speak ill of her,
and secondly that I may know who her lovers are. Then I tell tales of
them to my lady, to hinder their suit and further mine. And though I
myself have no help from it, I can conceal nothing from her which it
concerns her to know. To him who loves not my lady, let him love as
many others as he will, I feign no semblant, and his tales sink no
deeper than my ears. Now, father, what is your doom and what pain must
I suffer? (1879-2076.)
My son, all virtue should be praised and all vice blamed: therefore
put no visor on thy face. Yet many men do so nowadays, and especially
I hear how False Semblant goes with those whom we call Lombards, men
who are cunning to feign that which is not, and who take from us the
profit of our own land, while we bear the burdens. They have a craft
called _Fa crere_, and against this no usher can bar the door. This
craft discovers everything and makes it known in foreign lands to our
grievous loss. Those who read in books the examples of this vice of
False Semblant, will be the more on their guard against it. (2077-2144.)